


Heartattack

by KPenDragon



Series: Cyber City verse [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cyber City, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KPenDragon/pseuds/KPenDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knockout and Breakdown are an average couple; they share an apartment in Cyber City, working as a doctor and a construction worker respectively. They have their usual fights like most couples do. After one though, something happens that could change their lives forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Those glances the two of you pass each other in the elevator.”

“Seriously, what are you even talking about?”

“Just because I’m busy all day actually working doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to what’s going on in my own home.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up right there. You are not doing this to me.”

“Doing what exactly.”

“You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about Doctor “Let-me-in-your-panties”, Doctor “When-do-those-legs-open”.”

“I have never-!”

“That’s EXACTLY how you picked me up! And that’s how you act at all those hospital functions, but do I flip out over every pretty nurse that looks at you NO!”

“I don’t look back!”

“Like hell you don’t!”

“How dare you!”

“How dare I what? Defend myself when you’re going psycho on my ass because some neighbor looks at me wrong?? I’m getting so fed up with your shit lately Knockout. These double shifts at the Hospital aren’t helping anything.”

“Oh so now you’re threatened by the fact that I have an actual career.”

“I-you-I-GAH! Forget it, I’m not doing this.”

“Where do you think you’re going!”

“Out.”

“Out to be with her you mean.”

“Just out. Primus Doc! I’ll be back when I’m back, don’t wait up.”

And with a slam of a door, that was the beginning of the worst night of his life. 

Looking back he realizes now how stupid that conversation had been. 

Ever since he’d picked up a double shift at the hospital to cover the lost paychecks from Breakdown’s construction union going on strike, he’d been on edge. Then that woman had moved in on the second floor and always had this creepy way of showing up when they were going out, or doing laundry, or getting mail. He was exhausted, Breakdown was frustrated, and things just…boiled over.

They’d fought before in the past, even harder than that, and typically one of them stormed out of the apartment-usually Breakdown-and would come rolling back in around 3 am, and they’d make up. That was what usually would happen. But it didn’t this time.

He didn’t come home in the morning. He didn’t come home the next night. He didn’t come home the following morning. Knockout called everyone he could think of, but no one had put the man up for the night. He was nowhere to be found. 

He didn’t come home that night either, so his next call was to the police.

That was nearly 3 days ago; Breakdown had been missing for 5 days.

Knockout tried not to act it, but he was all sorts of anxious and worried on the inside. He continued to go to work; people didn’t stop dying or getting sick just because his home life was falling apart after all. He worked his shifts, calling the police station to check in every chance he had a break; the receptionist there was getting pretty fed up with him. And honestly, he was starting to get fed up too.

“You look like you could use this.”

He had been sitting in the cafeteria, his head in his hands, face towards the silent dark phone sitting on the table staring at him mockingly. At the sound of this new voice though, his hands slid down onto his neck so he could look up. First his red eyes found an offered cup of coffee; then they slid up to find the hand holding said cup belonged to the local carrot top psychologist.

“Thanks Rung,” he took the offered cup, sitting back in his chair with a sigh.

Rung didn’t wait for the invitation to join, he just pulled out a chair to sit at the table with him. “You seem distracted Knockout. That’s not exactly a state of mind a doctor should be in while working with patients you know.”

Knockout shot him a look over the edge of the coffee cup, pausing as he took a sip to do so.

Rung held up his palms. “I was just saying.”

“You were just analyzing.”

He shrugged slightly. “Occupational hazard.”

“Mmhmm.” That was the last thing he needed, Rung telling him he was an idiot, but more in a professional manner.

Rung gave him a few moments, but he just couldn’t sit there in silence forever after all. “You know, if you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to start guessing. I’m very good at guessing.”

“I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“Not in the mood hm? High stress levels, means you’re not engaging in your usual stress relief routines.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’ve also been neglecting your personal appearance, which is highly atypical of your character. It’s not immediately noticeable mind you, but your hair isn’t as quaffed as it usually is, there’s a slight puffiness to your eyes, and you’re less of an extrovert.”

“Rung.”

“It could be that you’re taking on too much extra work here, but last week your schedule was heavier and yet you still retained your you-ness.”

“Rung stop.” 

“From what I know about your personal life, it can’t be that your pet died. Any qualms with your relations-extended or immediate. So that can only leave your partner.”

When no word came from the red head, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head; actually he knew that before the silence, but he wanted to give him the chance to say it before it was dragged out of him.

“Talking helps.”

“Talking won’t do anything.”

“You never know until you try.”

He shot him another look. “I don’t need any psycho-babble right now thanks.”

“No babble, just honest friendly talk I promise.”

Knockout sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose taking a moment to debate. If he talked about it, it would get the psychologist to back off, yet would be airing out his dirty laundry at work, which is something he tried to avoid doing. But if he didn’t talk about it, aside from having Rung keep pestering him, it’d start to eat him up too.

“We had a fight, and…”

“Go on,” he nudged lightly.

“And he’s missing.”

“Missing as in…?”

“As in I filed a missing person’s report and no one’s found him yet,” he growled slightly.

“Oh. Oh wow. I’m sorry.”

He sighed again, swishing the coffee left in eth cup slightly, starring down at it half heartedly. Silence hung for a few moments between them.

“So, what are you doing about it?”

“What can I do? I filed a report, and am about ready to have the receptionist at the precinct block my number from the amount of times I call. It’s driving me insane at how much I can’t do.”

The ginger nodded. “I understand.”

“You said no babble,” he shot him a glare.

“That wasn’t babble, honest. You’re worried about the welfare of your loved one. It’s totally normal, and everyone can understand that.”

“Yeah…I guess.”

“I’m sure things will pick up soon,” he tried to reassure. “He’s a big guy right, strong?”

“Yeah, very,” he couldn’t help a little smirk at that.

He smiled too, pleased that he was able to help a little bit. “See, so he’ll turn up soon I’m sure. What’s the worst trouble he could get into after all?”

At that moment his cell phone went off. Knockout immediately grabbed it without looking at the caller ID, forgetting his companion for the moment. Rung didn’t mind, and patiently waited to see what this call would offer too.

“Hello, Detective? Has there been any news??”

The voice on the other end of the phone coughed dryly. “H-Hey Doc.”

“Breakdown?!” 

He was up out of his chair without thinking, the coffee cup splattering to the floor as his other hand came up to hold the phone to his ear more.

“Breakdown, where are you? What happened? I have been worried sick about you!”

Again he coughed. “Sorry, I got a little…tied up…”

He was about to question what that meant, but there were suddenly background noises from the other end of the phone; the sound of metal banging against metal, and muffled voices yelling.

“What’s going on, where are you?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s bad Doc, real bad.”

“Breakdown?”

“I’m sorry Doc. I l-”

The metal banging gave way to a loud bang, and the voices were suddenly no longer muffled. The yells weren’t all that distinguishable, aside from a “Get him!”. And then the line went dead.

Knockout just stood there, in the middle of the hospital cafeteria, holding the cell phone to his ear two handed, clinging to it for dear life. He was in shock; the world around him was a blur. He was only rocketed back to reality when a hand came to his shoulder. He focused back in onto the owner of the hand; the carrot top looked at him sternly through his glasses.

“Knockout, focus. Are you ok?”

He slowly shook his head, unwilling to trust his voice at that moment.

“What happened?”

Still his voice wouldn’t come; how could one put into words that the world as he knew it had just ended.

*****

That red head. That stupid, frustrating red head. That over the top, drama queen, impossible red head. Only he could ever get him that riled up without wanting to punch something. Only he had the ability to make him twist inside his own skin. Only that red head. Primus! He loved that man.

But not right now; right now he was furious with him. Well…he was when he stormed out of their shared apartment, and still was the 4 flights of stairs it took to get to the street, and still when he stormed out of the building. But now that he was a couple blocks away, with the cool city air helping to cool his rage…yeah, it was stupid.

Sure, he was usually the level headed one, the sensible one. But since his union had gone on strike, and he’d been left jobless, he’d just felt…useless. Then with Knockout taking on double shifts, he left like he was letting him down. Sure, his paychecks weren’t anything near what the Doc pulled in regularly, but at least he was contributing. He’d always been taught to pull his own weight; don’t judge his success on the success of others, just on his own merit. But right now, he was dead weight. And it was killing him.

So he blew up. Knockout started it, but he still should’ve been the bigger person about. He knew then, at about the corner of Lexington and Cain that he should go and apologize. And then a second thought came to him; knowing the feisty red head as well as he did, if he was even half as angry as he’d seemed, it would probably be best to wait until the morning to do that.

He took a moment to look around, seeing if there was a payphone handy so he could call his buddy Wildrider, because in his huff he left without his cell phone.

And that was the last thing he remembered before waking up strapped to a table.

His eyes adjusted to the low light slowly; peeling paint and dirty light from a half painted over window made up the room. He tried to move, but found leather restraints buckled around his wrists, ankles, waist and neck. There was an IV bag hanging to his left, with a tube running down to his arm. He tried to flex, but only managed to break away from the tube.

He had no idea how long he had been there, where his shirt had gone, or even where he was. But none of that was going to stop him from working on the restraints.

At last he had a wrist free, having pulled enough to get the buckle to come loose. It took several tries to reach over to his other wrist; the strap at his throat pulling and pressing hard against his struggles. He felt like he was chocking (he really was after all). At last he had his other wrist untangled, which left both hands free to get his neck unlatched. He coughed once the buckle was undone, and paused, listening to see if his sounds had alerted anyone.

It seemed clear, and it was easier to make quick work of the other belts. Once he could sit, his view of the room increased exponentially. 

There was but one window, painting everything with a dirty light. All the walls had peeling paint. But there was a single door with a slide bar latch that was left unlatched, as well as a phone mounted against the far wall. Beside his table, with the IV drip, was a rolling metal cart with various medical instruments and accouchements. 

His first thought was the phone, not that he could’ve been able to tell what half the stuff on the cart was. He was off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. Again, he paused. Still going unnoticed, he moved the slide bar into the lock position before going for the phone.

The dial tone was the best sound ever in that moment. Well, the second best.

He should’ve called the Police; they could trace the number after all, they’d have to believe him when he said he was kidnapped right? Who knows how much time he’d have before whoever it was that had him here would return. He should have called for help, that’s the thing that made sense to do.

But his fingers didn’t work with reason. They dialed the oh so familiar number, and waited as it rang. His heart beat lined up with each ring, and skipped as the voice on the other end picked it up.

“Hello, Detective? Has there been any news??”

The dial tone was the second best thing he could’ve heard right then; Knockout’s voice was the best.

“H-Hey Doc,” he coughed from the rawness in his vocal cords due to the strap that had been there.

“Breakdown?!” he could hear him chock, and had no problems imagining the surprise look on the red head’s face. “Breakdown, where are you? What happened? I have been worried sick about you!”

Again he coughed. “Sorry, I got a little…tied up…”

Suddenly there was a banging against the door he’d just sealed; it seemed his antics had finally become noticed. He was running out of time.

“What’s going on, where are you?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s bad Doc, real bad.”

There was shouting now; at least two voices, maybe more. He desperately looked around the room, trying to find some detail he could pass along, some hint or clue he could give his loved one to help find him. But the room was barren, and there was no more time.

“Breakdown?”

“I’m sorry Doc,” he rested his forehead against the wall, holding the phone to his ear, closing his eyes; this was it, something just told him this was the end. “I l-”

The hinges on the door gave way and the metal frame fell with a loud crash to the floor. Out of instinct he dropped the phone and turned sharp to face his attackers. If he was going down, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

There were two men who came at him, with a third somewhere yelling “Get him!”. He grappled the first that came at him, ramming the second with his cohort. Breakdown was a big guy, so he had his size as an advantage at least. He only managed to knock the one back a step, while the other still held sharp to him. He was pushed then pulled against and from the wall. The grappling pair swung wide towards the center of the room; the second combatant resurfaced and grabbed the struggling captive from behind.

Try as he might they had him.

He growled, still struggling. “Who the hell are you people?! What do you want with me?!”

“Easy there Big Guy,” there was a sharp hiss, followed by a sting before those words were whispered against his neck. “Don’t want to damage the merchandise.”

And then there was nothing but darkness.

*****

The limp body was taken back to the table at the center of the room, and the straps were done back up. She remained in the doorway, watching, overseeing. She’d already done all the dirty works after all.

She’d moved into the apartment building, profiling the target she’d been contracted to capture. She watched, she waited, and finally found her opportunity and took it. And now she had to even be the one to realize he’d gotten loose, and knock him back out. Capturing a man was no different than capturing any other animal after all, and this time she didn’t even have to worry about carrying her parcel over a border.

Her cell went off, so she stepped clear of the door back to the hall, turning away from the goons that were double checking their straps. She flipped the piece open, putting it to her ear.

“Talk to me.”

“Do you have him?” the voice was rough with age and probably years of barking orders and smuggled cigars; she recognized it as her client easily.

“Do you have the cash?”

He scoffed at that, but it turned into a cough easily. “Don’t toy with me spider bitch.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Major Bishop,” she snickered, resting her elbow in her free hand as she heard the old man hiss at the usage of his real name. “Sorry, Silas.”

“Well if you have the subject why haven’t you sent a sample to guarantee the match?”

She frowned, readjusting her stance. “Excuse me for being on the ground, you know, dodging cops.”

“That’s what I’m paying you for. If you can’t deliver, then perhaps-”

“You’ll have your sample in an hour,” she hissed, then snapped her phone shut hard.

She walked back into the room, having moved halfway down the hall lazily as she’d been on the phone. The goons had finished their work; the large white haired, tan man was once again strapped to her table unconsciously. She looked him over; running a few fingers up from his navel to his brow as she slowly walked the length of the table.

“You,” she looked up to the goons, her orchid eyes glowing with a malicious glee. “Get a cooler with ice and be back in 15 minutes.”

Two of the men left but the third wavered at the door, looking to her. She paid him no attention at first, moving around the head of the table to grab the cart wit it’s various multitude of medical equipment.

“What are you going to do with him ma’am?”

“If Silas wants a sample…” she ran her fingers across the abundance of shiny metal tools. “Then that’s what I’ll send him.”

She picked up a particularly sharp and menacing looking blade. She grinned at her perfect reflection in its surface.

“Silas just ordered certain parts. What I do with the rest of the carcass, well, that’s totally up to the hunter, now isn’t it?”

She slid the blade up a similar pattern along the unconscious man’s body very similarly to the path she had traced with her finger not too long ago. When the tip reached the brow though, that was when she reacted. There was a large spurt of red, and the goon had to turn away lest he become queasy.

She paid no attention to his discomfort, or the fact that she was becoming splattered in arterial red. She just used her blade to carve into the drugged man, helpless and bound, unable to react or even feel what she was doing it seemed. One could almost say she was enjoying this work; she’d field dressed many of her kills in the field before when she only required one small piece of the great animals she poached. This was no different; man was an animal, just the same as any other.

The goons who’d gone to retrieve the requested cooler and ice returned just on time. And as she’s figured, that was the moment when she was pulling eth severed eyeball from the man’s skull. She smirked at her work, satisfied with herself more than anyone could imagine. Then she caught sight of her men’s’ faces aghast, which caused her to grin more.

“What? Never seen a piece of meat before?”

She motioned the one with the cooler to come over with the hand that held the blade; he did as instructed somewhat timidly. She made him open it so she could place her plucked prize in the ice within.

“Get that over to Silas’ lab asap.”

The man nodded and left. She turned her attention to the other two.

“Get me a towel or two.”

They both left quickly, happy to be out of there. She just rolled her eyes at the uselessness of her men. The blade was dropped back onto the cart with its siblings. She stretched, still unaffected by the blood that was washed her hands completely.

“Mmmm, can’t wait to get out of this city,” she half glanced back to the body, still motionless where he was strapped. “And you’re my ticket boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

The 43rd Precinct was a busy hive of disgruntled and generally overworked police officers. It was located between two heavily fought over gang territories, as well as included the old train yard locally called “The Bone Yard”. It wasn’t unheard of to have multiple robberies, stabbings, and even a bomb go off in some abandoned building, all in a single hour. Officers were constantly coming and going; the roster was a revolving door.

“Yo Arcee!”

The blue haired detective was just coming back into the precinct, after getting off duty only an hour ago. She carried her leather racing jacket over her. Her blue eyes found the rookie as he stood from his desk; she slightly rolled her eyes at him.

“What is it Cheetor, don’t you have paperwork you should be doing?”

“Blah, between you and me, Chief was totally way off base.”

“You set a pizza parlor on fire.”

“Oh like you’ve never done that before.”

She rolled her eyes again, and started walking forward; unfortunately the blonde followed her a step behind at her side.

“So, why’re you back so soon? Didn’t you get off shift like an hour ago…after taking double over time?”

“It’s called having priorities kid,” she made it to her designated desk, tossing her jacket into the chair before pulling out a drawer to pull out her badge and gun to strap to her waist. “The bad guys don’t sleep, so why should we.”

“Yeah, ok I get that,” he leaned against the desk a bit. “But you do know, if you push yourself too hard, they’ll have you in a psyche eval and then, well, you know.”

She shot him another look. “Don’t you have paperwork.”

The freckled blonde was about to once again try to charm the more veteran officer, when there was a yell from across the large room for him; seems the Chief had noticed the troublemaker was away from his desk. Cheetor scurried back to his station, leaving Arcee with a half smirk and shaking her head as she silently laughed at the rookie.

She shifted some folders that lay piled on her desk, moving the ones she wanted right away towards the top. As she sat, she glanced across to the empty desk and chair. Her smirk slid away as sadness filled her eyes. The sadness then hardened as she looked at the files, reading over the familiar text for about the millionth time.

Arachnid. That woman was the officer’s white whale. Smuggler by trade, mercenary when she felt like it. The two had crossed paths so many times over the years; first assignment out of the gate Arcee and her partner was caught in the crossfire caused when Arachnid’s employer tried to take the goods without paying. It’d landed the two rookies in the hospital for a few days, but as soon as they were out and back on the streets, they were on the spider woman’s tail. That was up until a year ago, when there was this giant fire fight in the warehouse district. A large white tiger was being smuggled into the city, Arachnid’s handiwork. Arcee and her partner were first on the scene; she was the last off, alone. Arachnid was caught, but somehow she was let off; Arcee was still burning from that.

After that the smuggler had disappeared off the grid; whether she left the city or just buried herself in the underground, no one knew. That hadn’t stopped the officer from obsessing though, and everyone knew it. She had been shuffled to another precinct, given a new partner, but a month into that tragedy had happened again in a drug bust. Against all suggestions, she went right back to work, and back to her old desk at her old precinct and her old ways.

“Hey, ‘cee.”

She looked up from the papers to the man who’s spoken to her. “Prowl? How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” he removed his mirrored glasses, offering her a new file folder. “Thought you might be interested in this.”

“What is it?” she asked as she took the folder, flipping it open to scan it before an answer was even offered.

“Missing person’s case from the 22nd.”

“And why would a missing person uptown interest me.”

“Check page 6.”

She flipped ahead, finding a list on interviewed witnesses. She scanned the lines quickly, and stopped dead on one; the only one that mattered to her.

“Arachnid’s back in town,” Prowl said unnecessarily.

Arcee was up instantly, grabbing her jacket and moving past the man. He was quick to match her, his glasses going right back on.

“Where you headed ‘cee?”

“Do you have to ask.”

They exited together, heading through the police parking garage. Arcee pulled out her keys from her jacket after shrugging the leather onto her shoulders; she clicked the black beeper and a motorcycle beeped as its alarm was turned off.

“It’s not your case ‘cee.”

“Like that’s ever stopped me,” she straddled the bike, pulling on her helmet, looking at him from the opened visor. “Where you going Prowl.”

“Where do you think?”

“I work alone.”

“Then we’ll just work alone together.”

She shot him a look, shut the protective visor and revved her bike. Prowl had to jump back to avoid being grazed by the motorcycle woman. He tilted his glasses, watching her speed out of the garage.

“One of these days ‘cee. One of these days.”

*****

The first sensation he felt was a dull numbing ache from the right side of his head. He tried to move his head, but found it locked in place by something stationed on either side. He tried to open his eyes, but again something was pressed against them keeping them closed. He tried to reach up to remove whatever this was, but again-and not surprisingly at this point-his arms were pinned down.

He growled slightly, but it started to turn into a cough due to the dryness in his throat.

“It seems our patient is awake.”

Suddenly he had light; the visor above his face was lifted and he had to squint against the bright light. As things started to come into focus though, he realized something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“Here, drink this.”

A straw was touched to his lips, and even though he didn’t really trust what was going on, he instinctively drank the liquid to sooth his dry throat. After he’d had enough and the straw was pulled away, a face came into his line of vision; or at least, what line of vision he still retained.

“I would ask how you’re feeling,” a thin faced man with a head of short dark hair with a shock of white bangs was speaking down to him. “But seeing as you’ve been pumped with so many pain killers to counteract the pain from the hack job on your eye, well, that question would really be moot.”

What?! His eye…his eye was…oh Primus!

“Flatline!” a scratchy voice barked, and then coughed.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” and the face moved out of his line of sight.

Breakdown tried not to panic, but despite his will his heart started racing. Obviously he was hooked up to a machine he couldn’t see, because as he felt his heart trying to burst from his chest, there was a loud series to beeps to match him in pace. He heard the one called Flatline direct a third party to give him something to “calm down”, and a few seconds later he felt a pin prick into his left bicep. It didn’t hurt much, but he still hissed at it, fists clenching out of reflex.

He tried again to move, but his head was held very firmly in place all the way down to his neck as far as he could tell. Legs were pinned, arms were pinned; most likely he was completely harnessed down. He couldn’t move, and he was starting to feel the effects of whatever he’d been injected with begin to take effect. So while he was still conscious, he tried to focus on the voices in the room with him.

“You called for me Silas?”

There was a cough, some heavy breathing as if from an oxygen mask before the scratchy voice spoke again, “Where are we doctor?”

“Oh, we’re going along just as expected. You two are completely compatible, and all the parts you require and completely free of damage.”

Parts? They were going to take parts from him? This sort of thing didn’t happen in real life! This was some sort of urban legend!

“In fact, aside from some old fractures that weren’t set properly most likely from childhood, and the poacher’s butchering of that eye socket, I would say he is quite the perfect specimen.”

“Good, good,” another series of coughs.

“I must say, I marvel at the fact that you even found him. This genotype is so rare, and to find a perfectly compatible match at that. Not even blood relations have that much luck. However did you manage that?”

“When you rose as high in the ranks as I did, you make certain connections that can guarantee that the job gets done no matter the cost.”

“That much I could deduce on my own.”

“Then quit wondering about it and do your job doctor. That’s what I’m paying you for.”

“I’m well aware of that. If you’ll excuse me, I have a few final checks to make before we begin the surgery.”

“Then don’t let me keep you doctor,” and another series of coughs.

Surgery!? Breakdown was not comfortable about sharp instruments, which made living with a surgeon ironic at times but that was different. When the sharp instruments were directed at him, he was ESPECIALLY uncomfortable with it. Surgery, taking his parts; there was no way this could really be happening. He had to have been still unconscious. It was the only reasonable explanation. People just didn’t go around doing this sort of thing. People just didn’t go around organ snatching!

“Well, well, it’s just you and me then.”

A new face was above him now. It was an older man, gray haired with a few scars on his face. His eyes were sunken in, with dark circles under them. He looked…sick. And if he wasn’t strapped to a table, threatened with being cut open like a slab of meat, he might actually care about that.

Breakdown growled. Silas just smirked.

“Still got some fight left in you, hu kid. I give you some credit for that.”

“Who are you.”

“I’m just a man not yet ready to die,” he coughed, moving out of sight for a moment as he took deep breathes from an oxygen mask; he was back in his vision shortly though. “And you are the one who will sacrifice your life to save mine.”

He growled again, trying futilely to move within his restraints. Silas just chuckled low, careful not to start another coughing fit. 

“Careful now, don’t want to harm anything valuable.”

“You won’t get away with this,” he hissed.

“I already have kid, I already have.”

His vision started to blur again; the drugs he’d been injected with were finally winning against his will power. Breakdown realized that if he fell asleep now, he would probably never wake up again. This crazy man was going to cut him up. 

He was going to die, and no one would know. 

He was going to die alone.

He was going to die and leave Knockout all alone.

It was that last thought that haunted him the most as the darkness finally pulled him in.

*****

Time was of the essence. The moment the phone went dead was the moment the world had stopped. It was only Rung’s voice that had snapped him back to reality, and once he was back, he was on the move. Running through the well known halls of the hospital, avoiding nurses with carts, ignoring people calling after him. The most vehement of the voices was the psychologist who’d taken up chase after him actually; Rung was not as agile as Knockout was at dodging nurses, and was lost a few paces behind due to continually apologizing. But that didn’t matter to the red head; he was running out of time.

He took the stairs 3 at a time; 4 if he was sure he wouldn’t miss a step and go falling. Now was not the time to loose his balance. He made it to the ground floor, and came bursting out of the stairwell door, startling those in the closest vicinity. But again, he had no time for them; he had somewhere he had to be. He rushed past patients and medical staff alike, his eyes only locked and focused on his goal; the exit. His goal was nearing closer; he was nearly to freedom, to a chance at hope; maybe there was actually time…

“KNOCKOUT!”

A man appeared in front of him, blocking his way, stopping his sprint, removing what little hope he had just found.

His scruffy white facial hair and war-worn face betrayed his true age making him seem far older than he was. His blue eyes were sharp and young though as they burned at the younger doctor.

“What do you think you’re doing,” he demanded. “I have people calling my office saying you’re running a marathon through the hospital? We’re here to save lives, not cause accidents under our own roof!”

He continued to rebuke the red head, but he didn’t listen; he didn’t have the time for this!

“And another thing-”

“Sorry about this Ratchet.”

That caught the older man off guard for a second. “What did you s-”

The elevator opened, letting the out of breath psychologist off then. He loosened his collar as he adjusted his glasses, trying to get some air and prevent his eyewear from fogging up. But the sight he came upon in the lobby, well, that was a new one for his book to say the least.

“KNOCKOUT!”

The red head had landed such a strong and surprising uppercut to his superior that the older man had fallen back from the force and the shock. The whole lobby had frozen at that instant, too shocked and stunned by that. The red head only took a half a second for a breath before he was running again, disappearing through the automatic doors, leaving no other words as explanation.

In the back of his mind he knew he was going to pay heavily for that later; Ratchet was the head resident, his boss, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that punching out your boss was a bad thing. But at that instant, his only concern was getting his cell phone to the police as fast as he could, and with midday traffic in eth city as it was, on foot was actually the fastest way to get the 6 blocks over.

Again, he was back to dodging people on the sidewalk; weaving in and out of the other pedestrians, ignoring the aggravated yells he earned. He even went against several cross walk signals; nearly got hit by 3 different cars. But he came away unscathed, and in the end it was worth it. His goal came in sight, and he went running up the steps, bursting through the doors without a breath to spare.

“WHERE’S DETECTIVE CHROMIA!?!”

Those closest gave him crazy looks. He panted, the adrenaline used during his run starting to ebb away. He looked around frantically for someone, anyone, who looked qualified to help him. His locked on the receptionist, and booked a beeline directly for her.

“22nd Precinct, hold please,” the blonde cut off her phone conversation quickly when she caught sight of him heading towards her. “Sir, really, as I keep telling you when you call in if the detectives have any news you will be notified…”

“Listen here you over stuffed Barbie,” he snapped, slamming his empty hand on top of the desk. “I need to see Chromia NOW. And by now I mean 20 minutes ago!”

She was startled by the fire in his eyes, and half glanced back towards a set of uniforms that were standing within ear shot if something were to go wrong.

“Is something wrong out here?” a woman with a pale silver-blue braid came stepping out of an office with another, shorter blue haired woman at her side.

“You!” Knockout nearly tackled the taller woman. “I-Breakdown-you-HERE!” he shoved the phone into her hands.

Chromia blinked for a second, quite confused by this. “Sir, I think you need to sit down and take a minute to collect your thoughts.”

He growled in frustration. “No there’s no time! He could’ve moved by now.”

“Who could’ve moved?” the new woman asked.

He growled again, but did take a breath to try to collect himself, if only to speed thing along. “Breakdown.”

The shorter woman looked to the taller. Chromia sighed a little. “As I’m sure everyone’s told you, we’re doing out best to look for him. If we had any leads…”

“He called my phone.”

“What?!”

Finally he had the proper attention he needed! “He called my phone. He couldn’t tell where he was, but it sounded like someone was after him, and the line went dead. But he’s alive!”

“Did you make or receive any other calls after his?” the detective motioned for one of the uniforms to come over, to whom she handed off the phone to.

“No. I ran right here right afterwards.”

“You ran here?” the darker haired woman was surprised by that.

Chromia just nodded, more to the uniform than him as she gave her orders, “Get this to the IT guys immediately, I want a trace done on the last number it received.”

The uniform nodded and was off.

“Arcee, will you take Mr. Knockout to room 3 to wait while I go get things rolling.”

The shorter woman nodded and motioned for the red head to follow her. He was reluctant at first, but the look the detective gave him said it was the only way. He followed her, being lead down a hallway. The door that was opened lead to a room empty save for a table and a couple chairs opposite a large mirror against one wall.

“You guys really have setups like this, wow,” he half heartedly mumbled.

“TV gets it right on occasion,” Arcee admitted. “You wanna sit down?”

“Do I have a choice.”

She shrugged. “You’re not under arrest, but those traces can take a while.”

He mumbled but went into the room and sat. She followed, closing the door behind herself. She walked along the table edge for a bit, watching him, sizing him up. She was typically pretty good when it came to reading people after all, and this guy, boy.

“So I was reading your case file,” she tried to keep it casual as she sat on the corner edge of the table opposite him, hands tucked in her jacket’s pockets, but watching him. “Any ideas who’d have wanted to kidnap this guy?”

He shot her a sharp hard look at that statement. “That “guy” you’re talking about has a name, and it’s Breakdown.”

She tried to raise her hands up signaling that she meant no offense, but his look just got harder.

“And who exactly are you, if you don’t mind me asking.”

She offered him her hand, but he just kept his eyes locked on her with a death glare. “Officer Arcee from the 43rd Precinct.”

“And what are you doing all the way up here.”

She drew her hand back, seeing the gesture wasn’t going to be accepted. “Just came to offer my help.”

“Uhhu,” he wasn’t buying that. “Where was that help 3 days ago when I first came in.”

“The cops don’t always like to work together,” she said evenly matching his distasteful tone. “One reason why all the bad guys are one uping us.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

She got off her perch, standing and unzipping her jacket to peel it off and toss it over the back of another chair at the table.

“So tell me about him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me about this guy. What was your daily routine like? Anything change recently? What happened before he disappeared?”

He growled, holding his temple. “I’ve already explained all this to the other detectives.”

“Well tell me now then,” she crossed her arms, looking down at him. “Or you can just sit in silence. Which option do you think will help this case get solved any quicker?”

He growled again, but he put his hand back onto the table top, folded over his other arm.

“Where do you want me to start officer?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, I want in when the sting goes down.”

Chromia spun around in her desk chair, looking up to see Arcee standing at the edge of her desk, hands on her hips. The two had only crossed paths once before, back when the younger woman had been transferred to this precinct after the death of her partner. She knew her to be hard headed and on the tad of the obsessive side, especially when it came to this one perp. Chromia may not have been a career cop, but she did come from a military family, and she’d been at the beat much longer, so even she knew that if you’re seeing pink elephants everywhere, most times, they weren’t the ones sneaking the peanuts.

“This isn’t your case Arcee.”

“Any case Arachnid’s involved in is mine.”

Chromia rolled her eyes, “Arcee, listen.”

“No, you listen,” she took a perch on the edge of the desk to lay her verbal cards out. “Arachnid moves into the victim’s building and instantly seems to try to form a relationship with him. You don’t find that the least bit disturbing?”

“You got that from the paranoid boyfriend I take it.”

“Look, I know her inside and out. She isn’t the type to seek out interpersonal relationships like that. She’s a hunter. She was probably profiling him, learning his habits and routines, waiting for the right moment to snatch him.”

“Again, I repeat “paranoid boyfriend”.”

Arcee growled at that. Chromia sighed a little, sitting forward in her seat, now setting her cards out. “Look, we’re not dummies here Arcee. I’ve spent the past 2 and a half days exhausting every potential lead I could get my hands on, including verifying Arachnid’s whereabouts.”

“You still should have informed me that she’d resurfaced.”

“If we were partners then maybe. But truth of the matter is Arcee, the world does not revolve around your grudge.”

She growled again, her grip on the desk’s edge tightening enough to cause her knuckles to whiten.

“Look, I get it,” Chromia tried to diffuse the temper that she could see was rising. “I’ve lost people on the job too. I know how bad it hurts when you can’t get the guy who did it. But we’re bound by the law here Arcee.”

“I know all of that, but it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I have this feeling,” she stressed. “It’s just too much of a coincidence for me to buy it.”

“I understand that, but you have to understand where I am in this. This is my case, not yours. You’ve got a vendetta, I don’t. I’m trying to find a missing man; you’re hunting a white whale.”

She looked away there; her grip tightened, but then relaxed as the words sunk in. She knew what it all looked like, but really, there was just this nagging feeling she couldn’t shake.

“I’m thankful for the offer though,” Chromia continued, resting a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder to reconfirm her words. “You’re a great asset when you’ve got a clear head.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shrugged the hand off as she stood up.

Chromia was about to say something more when her phone rang. She picked it up fast, having been waiting for this call since she sent that cell phone to be traced. Arcee stood waiting, watching the older woman listen to the other end. At last she nodded, giving her thanks and hanging up the phone. She stood from her chair, grabbing her gun to tuck in its holster at her back under her blazer jacket.

“Well?” the dark blue haired one asked unnecessarily.

“We got a location. Warehouse district.”

Arcee couldn’t help a slight smirk at that, “Well what do you know, that’s my jurisdiction.”

“Don’t look so smug. You’re riding with me, and I don’t do motorcycles.”

*****

“Watch it with those!” she snapped at the thugs who were hauling out crates. “Your lives ain’t even worth a fraction of what’s in those boxes.”

Arachnid was moving house. Her job was done, she’d already made the drop for the merchandise, and she wasn’t going to hang around any longer here than she had to. The case at her hip was burning a hole in her pocket-metaphorically speaking-and she wasn’t about to loose any inventory she had left due to these lug heads’ inability to carry fragile things. They were emptying the warehouse as the sun started to set over the river; no one on the outside would think twice about a set of trucks sitting in the loading dock at this hour.

There was a crash to the right and her attention snapped there fast. “Hey! What did I just say!” she growled, setting the case down and heading towards the two men who’d dropped their load. 

She shoed them away enough so she could take a look at it. They were lucky that its cargo wasn’t living, or she would’ve been ripping mad.

“Pick it up and get it to the truck in one piece,” she barked; they moved quickly to her orders.

She started to head back towards her case. Just as she reached down to pick it up there came the sound of shots. She spun around on her heel fast; flashing lights greeted her gaze. She hissed a curse under her breath, grabbing the case fast, as she booked it deeper into the warehouse away from the loading dock.

Someone caught sight of her black shadow running from the lights and quickly a pursuit was begun. Arachnid ran, hearing the following footsteps, and hearing the echoing of what she was sure were a bunch of cops engaging her flunkies. Her inventory was surely lost, and by this point signing her tenure in Trypticon Prison. So what it all came down to really was, either she was getting out of here free and clear or she was going to go down fighting.

She threw the silver case in between the crevice of two stacks of pallets, then scaled a third within the same breath. She waited from the top of her perch, hidden by the shadows, watching the floor below. It only took a few moments for her pursuer to catch up to this spot; a smirk slid across her shadowed lips once she caught sight of the familiar blue head of hair.

Arcee of course had been the first one into the fray, much to her impromptu partner’s chagrin. She’d seen her quarry turn tail, so she had maneuvered through the ensuing chaos on the loading zone to engage in pursuit. Now though, the footsteps had stopped, and she actually had come to a dead end formed by stacks of pallets. She stayed alert though; she knew the spider woman far too well to just assume that she wasn’t laying in wait. She moved carefully, her weapon at the ready, not being lowered; her eyes searched every darkened corner she could see.

“Well, well, I’d say I was surprised…”

She stopped dead in her tracks as the voice came from over head, but that was the only direction she could tell.

“But really, at this point in the game, I’d actually be insulted if it wasn’t you they sicked on me Arcee.”

She scanned the shadows again, trying to find a shape out of place. But nothing.

“I heard about your little mishap with…oh what was his name again? Your second partner.”

Arcee growled, looking again, taking a half sliding step back.

“Ah well, it doesn’t matter does it. Probably didn’t have enough time to learn his name yourself hu?”

She carefully turned around; there had to be something, the spider had to slip up some how, especially while she was gloating like this. There had to be some sort of tell where she was…

“I nearly sent you flowers, but that just seems so impersonal, you know?”

“So’s talking trash from the shadows you know.”

Arachnid chuckled; she knew the cop couldn’t find her, and this was a very poor attempt to draw her out. She used the shadows to her advantage, sliding down just a few pallet levels, closer towards her prey but just enough out of her reach so as to be unseen.

“You know it really is a bad idea to challenge a spider in her own web.”

“And it’s a really bad idea to piss off a speed jockey with an itchy trigger finger.”

“Oh, but dear dear Arcee, we both know there’s one little piece of metal that’s stopping you from doing just that.”

“Give me ample reason and we’ll just see about that.”

“Mmm I would love to, but sadly, I have other engagements.”

Arachnid came away from the shadows, leaping down upon Arcee. The two fell; the gun was knocked from the officer’s grasp before they rolled. The blue haired woman tried to grab onto the darker one, grapple with her, but Arachnid was faster and stronger. Her elbow connected to her throat, catching her off guard. The dark woman broke free, rolled to her feet with expert timing; the lost fire arm now within her grasp.

Arcee rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up onto her elbows, only to hear the pin click. She looked up, seeing the barrel pointed at her, and a set of bright violet eyes glaring down at her with a twisted smirk.

“Oh what a shame, but it seems I have to split and dash. And you know how I just hate to leave loose ends.”

“So do I.”

Another pin click came from behind Arachnid. She held up her free hand now, dropping the gun and raising the other palm just the same; she hissed under her breath. Arcee looked past her now and found Chromia standing with her own fire arm pressed against the spider woman’s shoulder blades.

“So you’ll have no problem with me tying this one up then I take it,” she reached around with her free hand to retrieve the handcuff on her waist; she then tossed them to Arcee. “You want to do the honors?”

Arcee caught the tossed object, and then got to her feet. She grabbed Arachnid by each wrist just a bit too roughly as she maneuvered her arms behind her back. Once satisfied the perpetrator wasn’t going to put up a fight, Chromia holstered her weapon.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say-”

“Can and will be held against me in a court of law,” Arachnid mocked, and then hissed. “Tying it a little tight there aren’t we?”

“Oh excuse me,” Arcee clicked the cuff tighter, earning another hiss.

Chromia stepped away, talking to her radio, “Officer Chromia here, Officer Arcee and I have suspect in custody. We’ll be bringing her in for questioning immediately.”

“Questioning?” Arachnid cocked an eyebrow. “Ok, now I’m curious, what am I exactly being booked for?”

“Oh what, you mean aside from the usual,” Arcee pushed her forward, heading towards the loading dock which was the exit, “Poaching, smuggling, murder, attempted murder, burglary.”

Arachnid moved forward as directed. “Aw you remembered, how sweet. But seriously.”

“A new single to add to your greatest hits. Kiddnapping.”

Arachnid snorted. “Seriously?”

“You think crime is a joke now?” Chromia was walking beside Arcee as she led the prisoner out.

“Oh sure, but this, this is gold.”

They made it to the car, and Archnid was being put in the back. Before the door shut, she grinned at her captures, a twisted spark of glee in her eye.

“I can’t wait to get to the station girls. You’ll just love the story I have to tell you.”

*****

The room was brightly lit, with not an inch of shadow to be seen. Not an inch of dirt either. It was clear, clean, and absolutely pristine and sterile. It was not the type of setup Flatline was used to working in; most of his work happened in back alleys, or backs of shops. He had a reputation as a “gang doctor”; as long as he didn’t ask how his patients were injured, they didn’t ask to see his medical license and paid in cash. That was most likely how this “Silas” had heard about him; from there, they just came to a verbal contract and well, now here he was in this immaculate operating set up.

He moved to check the monitors hooked up to the comatose man laying on one of the steel operating table. Everything looked to be in order; there was no way this man was going to wake up until he wanted him to this time.

There was a crackle as an intercom came on, “How are we looking doctor?”

Flatline turned to look at the large window placed within the opposite wall; behind it stood his employer, watching him, already waiting in a hospital gown. The black and red haired physician offered an empty smile.

“Ready when you are sir.”

It took just a few moments to get the weathered old man into the operating room and set up on the other table. There were others in there with them; Flatline would need a nursing staff to accomplish this after all, but they were all supplied by Silas, so he really didn’t care as long as they did what he instructed. A set of them were doing the final preparations on the unconscious Breakdown, as another wheeled a cart over with eth appropriate tools they would be needing to cut the man open. Another set were helping their employer. Once Flatline was satisfactorily scrubbed up, he too came over to join the older man.

“Now just lay back and relax Silas, you’re in good hands.”

“I better be for what I’m paying you,” he then coughed. “You’re sure you can do this?”

“I assure you, speed with be a priority to avoid as much cell death as possible on your end.”

Silas seemed to grumble at that, but he laid back as instructed; he was no stranger to this set of motions after all. For years the old Major had been fighting against his old age. His parts were wearing out, and despite his years of fighting the good fight, the government was giving him no help. It shouldn’t matter he had such a rare genetic profile; he had given his life for this country, they owed him. So he turned to the underworld, and surprise surprise, he found his solution. A useless, worthless, low class construction worker just happened to be his perfect match; how perfect that he wouldn’t even be missed. And now soon, all his worries would be over.

Flatline moved away from Silas as the sedatives began to take effect. He went back to his other patient, nodding in approval as he saw how well his nurses had done in prepping him.

“Well then,” he lifted the surgical mask up over his nose before picking up an expertly sharpened scalpel, “Shall we begin then.”

Minutes ticked by slowly. Flatline worked with expert precision as he cut into the flesh with his sharpened blade. Skin and muscles were peeled away with skilled care, allowing him easy access to the bright white breast bone. He requested a rib spreader, and a second later it was in his hand. The bones creaked as they tried to protest to the unnatural movement, but he had it opened to his desire so he locked the tool in place. He then moved to reach over to pick up another sharpened tool from the wheel tray; now was the time to begin his real work.

As the blade entered the opened chest cavity, there was a loud crashing as a body was thrown through the large window. A body came flying in, falling not too short from the window; glass fragments also came scattering in. The suddenness did not rock the doctor’s hand though luckily.

“Alright everybody freeze!”

An officer was at the window, gun pointed dead on Flatline. 

“Everybody drop what you’re doing and put your hands up!”

The nursing staff obeyed, but Flatline did not move.

“Hey didn’t you hear me!”

“I heard you officer, but you’ve interrupted a sterile field,” he remained calm and monotone as he spoke.

More officers where coming into the room now, some grabbing the nursing staff.

“I don’t care! Drop the weapon!”

“This man is open on the operating table. You’re all jeopardizing his health and safety by doing this.”

But no one was listening to him. He was grabbed from behind, wrenched away from his patient; the blade slipped, and though he couldn’t see it, he was fairly certain the sharp edge had done damage.

“Oh man this guy’s cut wide open!” one of the officers in the room started to gag.

“That is what I just said was it not.”

“We’re gonna need a bus,” another said.

“I would hurry if I were you,” he was being pushed out of the room with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Be such a shame if he died because of our city’s finest.”


	4. Chapter 4

He was still sitting in the police station. He’d been left alone, and no one was really paying him much attention; they all had their duties after all. He probably should have gone back to the hospital, but right now he really didn’t feel like getting chewed out for decking the hospital director. He probably should have gone home then instead, but he didn’t really want to be alone either. He knew things were going down, and he had no control over any of it; he hated not having control of things.

“Here.”

He looked up, finding a new person in front of him. He had the oddest feeling that he looked familiar, but his memory just couldn’t place from where. This man was fairly clean shaven, dressed pretty casually compared to most of the people who worked around here, yet there was a certain formalness to him too. He offered the red head a slight smile, trying to be friendly as he offered him a Styrofoam cup.

“You look like you could use some coffee.”

“What I could use is a shot of vodka dry,” he half heartedly said, but took the offered cup with a thankful nod.

The new guy chuckled a little at that, and took a seat on the wicker bench beside him. “I feel you there, but that’s sort of frowned upon in these parts.”

Knockout snorted, “Cops, what a bunch of uptight pricks. No offense.”

“None taken, seeing as I’m the coroner, not really included in that statement.”

“Mmm, dead doctor, nice.”

“Haha, yeah, not funny,” he offered his hand now, “I prefer to be called Tumbler, you know, seeing as that’s my name.”

Knockout shook the offered hand, but the name had jumpstarted his memory. “Wait, Tumbler? Didn’t you used to be a neurosurgeon?”

He chuckled, holding his hands up in a surrender pose, “Oh, you caught me, guess it’s time to move to Timbuktu.”

The red head raised an eyebrow at that. “You went from head neurosurgeon to a county coroner…why?”

His mirthful attitude started to fade away a little as he just shrugged. “Needed a change of scenery I guess. The dead don’t complain…or mind if you compare their hypothalamus to jello.”

Again Knockout had to blink at that; he had vague memories about this man’s tenure at the hospital when he’d been doing his residency; most of it was secondhand information or gossip though. Only the nickname “Chromedome” really sprang to mind, but somehow, that just didn’t feel suitable; not for this dork at least. But then again, Knockout was tired, and just really didn’t care as much as he normally would at the moment.

“So what are you in for?”

“What?” he was rocketed out of his thoughts by that question. “You don’t know?”

“I hang out with dead bodies all day, you think I’m kept socially in the loop here?”

“My…partner went missing a few days ago and it looks like he was kidnapped.”

“Oh. Oh wow, sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…” he looked down, starring blankly into the half empty coffee cup in his hands.

“I can see why you need the vodka.”

He just nodded silently. A moment later a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked back up there, finding the coroner to be the one touching him.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Excuse me?”

“I meant, do you want a ride home or something,” he clarified. “I’m getting off now, so I could drive you somewhere. It’s not really much fun hanging around here, not to mention the weirdoes that can be brought in. I’m sure someone will call you if there’s a break in the case.”

Knockout just sighed. “I’m just tired of waiting.”

“I get that, but if you gotta wait, you should at least be comfortable right?”

He had to admit that it really was boring here, and probably just adding to the stress. He couldn’t go home though; he’d left his car at the hospital. So he took him up on his offer to hitch a ride there at least. The fresh air would be helpful after all.

Traffic wasn’t too bad considering the time of day; plus the fact that he’d effectively run the distance between points earlier made it seem like it wasn’t as far. When he mentioned that fact, Tumbler seemed impressed by that. Conversation wasn’t really a major thing on the ride though; they both sort of understood that Knockout needed the space. But he still had the professional courtesy to ask him how working for the district compared to working at the hospital, which lead into a few amusing anecdotes from the doctor about eth weird things that had been brought into his office. So what conversation they did have wasn’t horrible at least.

He thanked him for the ride as he was let off outside the parking structure. He contemplated for a moment whether he really should go back inside to face the punishment he was certain Ratchet was just waiting to hurl upon him. In the end, he still didn’t feel like it, so he just wanted to get his car and go. It only took five minutes walking through the parking garage before he heard someone yelling his name.

“KNOCKOUT!”

He groaned, his keys already out, his cherry red Ashton Martin within sight, begging to be driven away. Another call came, so he begrudgingly turned around to find the good psychiatrist running towards him.

“How the hell did you know I’d be out here now Rung?”

“Never mind that!” he panted slightly as he reached him. “Where have you been! Everyone has been trying to call you!”

“The cops have my phone,” he responded. “And besides, I really am not in the mood to have Ratchet chew out my ass for the lobby right now.”

“Oh he will, be warned, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well spit it out would you, I’d like to get home and this day to get over with.”

“He’s here!”

“Who?”

“Breakdown.”

The world stopped for the second time that day; the keys fell from his grasp with an unnoticed clang to the cement floor.

“The cops brought him in not too long ago. It doesn’t look good…”

*****

It wasn’t good. In fact it was as far from good as it could have been at that moment.

“The cardiac damaged is irreparable,” Ratchet had said, “As is the ocular hack job. Even if we could find a donor eye, the nerves are too damaged to repair.”

“And his heart?”

“Right now, only the machines are keeping him alive but that’s just a temporary fix. He needs a donor heart, but…”

“His blood type is rare,” he’d finished; this problem had come up the year before when he’s nearly chopped off his thumb at work and needed a blood transfusion. “Nearly impossible to type match.”

The head resident had nodded. “He’s at the top of the list, but time just isn’t on our side.”

Silence hung thickly.

“Knockout, I, well…. In light of recent, well, facts, I’m willing to overlook the earlier incident in the lobby,” he said that despite the thick brown and green bruise that took up the side of his face, “But we both know you can’t touch this. And with this going on, I don’t want you on call either.”

“So I’m suspended.”

“You’re on vacation. Effective immediately,” he had started to leave then, but the older doctor had paused, remembering his bedside manor, “I…I’m very sorry. I really do hope things will work out for you and your partner.”

But that wasn’t true; they were both doctors, they both knew where this was going. Knockout had sat at Breakdown’s bedside for a good two hours rereading his charts, prying any information he could from the nurses that came in. Despite their orders not to indulge the doctor, they still told him things; he was quite convincing after all. It was all the same though; there just wasn’t enough time to keep the man alive long enough to even have the chance for finding a suitable donor…well, one that was already dead that is.

It burned him up that the man that had done this to his love was laying in another room in the hospital, just waiting to get out on his money fine and clear. Him, a perfect match, he would get out then wait for Breakdown to die, and still win in the end. He spent a good half hour trying to find that room, plotting ways to kill that beastly man for what he’d done, but where the nurses could tell him things to try to sooth the grieving partner, they knew better than to feed the revengeful one.

Now though, he just sat there with his head bowed, and his hands resting over the still hand of his love’s that laid lifeless against the bed. His thoughts drifted far away, back to a better time…

_“You know, when we first met, I never would’ve imagined that I’d grow to love you this much.”_

_It was late, or perhaps it was just that early. The only lights that came from the curtained window were from the street lamps outside, and they offered no indication of time, only the fact that it was dark. It didn’t bother the lovers in their bed, one way or another; whether they had been at it for hours, or moments, it felt like an eternity within a heartbeat when they were entwined. It was only in the after glow that time caught up to them, gave them a moment to reflect._

_The red head lay on top of his white haired love, resting his chin against crossed arms that lay upon the bare tanned chest. A larger hand reached up to brush a few stray matted red strands away from an equally red half lidded gaze; his touch was beyond any imaginable gentle caress. An equally soft chuckle made his chest rise and fall just as gently._

_“Oh really now?”_

_“I’m sure you’d heard the rumors.”_

_“Idle gossip? Never.”_

_He rolled his red eyes, but turned his head to rest his check against his arms now; the soft stroking increased upon the back of his head._

_“Never really thought I’d be the type for a long term relationship. Until a big strong man decided to sweep me off my feet that is.”_

_“If I’m remembering correctly, you’re the one that came onto me with some really cheesy pickup lines.”_

_“Hey,” he turned to look at him again, “Those were A-material for getting one night stands.”_

_“Uhhu.”_

_“You still went for them though.”_

_“Didn’t go home with you though.”_

_“True.”_

_“But I did come back.”_

_He raised an eyebrow at that._

_“Yeah, I never told you that I was in that bar that night only because of a bet. But I went back every night looking for you.”_

_“We didn’t hook back up until two weeks later though.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“I was actually leaving when I saw those guys attack you. If I’d left a minute earlier or later…”_

_“But you weren’t.”_

_He nodded lightly, bringing his and to cup his love’s cheek with that oh so gently touch of his. “And I never will be Doc. I’m always gonna be here to protect you.”_

_“Pft, please,” he tried to brush it off nonchalantly, but the blush dusting his cheeks betrayed it, “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself you know.”_

_“I know but still.”_

_They locked eyes now; red to gold. Their heart beats synced, their breathing slowed. A dark thumb lightly stroked a pale cheek; he leaned into the touch softly, being the one to break the eye contact as he closed his._

_“I love you Knockout.”_

_“I know Breakdown,” he breathed softly. “Me too.”_

“Knockout?”

A soft voice managed to break into his reminiscing; he recognized it easily as the good psychologist. Rung had been coming in almost regularly to check on him; probably to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Too bad that goal was about to fall through.

“Knockout, are you awake?”

“Yeah I’m awake,” he stood up now, “They still make you head shrinks take basic medical training in school right.”

“Yeah…”

“Good,” he turned to face him now, “Because I’m going to need a wing man.”

*****

Silas had come around out of the anesthesia just a few hours later. He’d found himself in an unfamiliar room, and handcuffed to his hospital bed. It didn’t take much to deduce what had happened, and the first words from his lips had been “I want my lawyer”. Calls had been made then; various police and legal people had been in and out of the room since. Now it was just a matter of time before he was out of this place, and just a little more time until he got what he’d wanted all along. The man he’d had kidnapped would die, and with just a few well placed bribes, there’s no way he’d be denied.

So now it was just a waiting game.

A shuffle to the left, over his shoulder, stirred the old army man from his half slumber. He half rolled over to see who it was, having to remove the breathing mask to fully see.

“Hmmm…who are you?”

It was a red haired man dressed in green scrubs, complete with a stethoscope hung around his neck. He had just been messing with the IV that wound its way down to his arm, as evidenced by the slipping of something into his shirt’s pocket. Or perhaps that movement was just to remove the pen there, as his next movement was to pick up the clip boarded chart.

“Excuse me,” Silas coughed slightly there, and had to take a breath from the mask before he continued, “I asked you a question.”

“Just another doctor,” he replied dryly, flipping up the top page of the clipboard. “Funny, you don’t look sick.”

The old man chuckled. “Are you the only doctor around here with any common sense?”

“Something like that. What a rare blood type you have. Must make getting blood transfusions hard.”

“Tell me about it. Took me nearly two years to find a set of donor lungs.”

“Lucky you that someone with your exact blood type just so happened to die then.”

“Yeah, luck,” he coughed again, but started to notice that the lights seemed to be dimming. “Is there something wrong with the power?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Everything’s getting so dark though…” he started to reach up to hold his head, but noticed that the liquid going into his IV was discolored now. “What the…”

“I’ll save you the trouble of thinking about it, seeing as you’ll be brain dead in a few minutes,” the red head snapped. “That is triple the dosage of a certain sedative that won’t damage any organs except for your brain.”

“How….why…”

“You really don’t bother doing thorough enough background checks on people before you kidnap them I take it,” he set the clip board down and walked around the far end of the bed, slowly. “If you had, you’d know who I am.”

Silas tried to focus on the red head, but it was increasingly hard to stay aware.

“Because of you the man I love is laying helpless and dying. And for that, I would love nothing more than to spend countless hours torturing you for that.”

“You…you can’t…”

“I know, sadly there’s “laws” against that for some strange reason,” he drummed his fingertips against the metal railing at the end of the bed. “Plus, there’s the little fact that you’re the only one who can save his life.”

“This…illegal…”

“Doesn’t seem to bother you in the least bit.”

Silas wanted to say more, but the words just stuck unable to form properly. The world was fading fast, and quickly there was nothing but darkness.

Knockout on the other hand remained completely wide awake and alert. He moved back to the machines in the room, and made sure to flip them off before the flat line tone pierced the silence. He looked down at the still body, eyes narrowed.

“You’re getting off easy.”

Rung stuck his head into the room then; he appeared to be dressed in scrubs as well. He seemed a bit on the nervous side, and rightfully so.

“Is…is it done then?”

Knockout nodded. “You get the OR set up?”

Now it was the carrot top’s turn to nod.

“And Breakdown?”

“Already moved there.”

“Good.”

“So…?”

“Let’s do this.”


	5. Chapter 5

The surgery had gone off perfectly. They were discovered of course, that would have been impossible to avoid. The nurses had plausible deniability, and Rung did his…psychologist thing to get out of…whatever he would’ve been punished with. Knockout was not as fortunate, but then again he went into this figuring this would be the outcome.

He broke so many laws, not to mention the Hippocratic Oath. His only saving point was that it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that his “victim” had actually died of natural causes; he hadn’t of course, but until after a necropsy, Knockout wasn’t going to say a word one way or another. Still though, he was pretty much officially fired now, and a hearing to pull his license was scheduled. Not to mention what sort of legal actions would be taken on the behalf of Silas’ estate.

But Breakdown would survive, and that’s all that mattered to the doctor. He could handle whatever happened because of his actions, but he wouldn’t regret them as long as that man lived.

It would still be a few hours before his patient would come out of the anesthesia; his body needed time to adjust to the new organ in his chest. So Knockout was using this moment to clear out his locker; he wasn’t a big enough physician to have an office after all. The locker room was empty as he shoved his belongings into a bag.

“My, what an uninspiring setup you have here doctor.”

At least he thought he was alone. The red head turned, finding a man standing in the doorway that he didn’t recognize. He was quite pale, with prematurely silvering hair, and a set of devious red eyes; he didn’t like the look if his eyes in the least.

“Can I help you? This is a restricted area, as in not open to the general public.”

“Now, now doctor, is that any way to speak to a friend?”

“You must have me confused with somebody else, because I don’t know you,” he started to turn back to his locker.

“Knockout, doctor. Graduated ranked 7th in your graduating class from Iacon. You live in Apartment 422, 14 Virginia Avenue…”

He stopped dead there, and turned slowly with an eyebrow raised at this stranger. He smirked now.

“I take it I have your full attentions now doctor.”

“For the next five minutes, sure, why not.”

“I’m sure it won’t take nearly that long,” he stepped into the room now, “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your recovering partner longer than I have to.”

“Then by all means, introduce yourself seeing as you have me at a great disadvantage.”

“My name is Starscream, and I am here to offer you a job opportunity.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’ve heard of Kaon Enterprises, correct?” when the red head gave a nod, he continued, “We’ve recently come under new management, and as a result are greatly restructuring our departments. There is an opening for a doctor with your skills, if you would be interested.”

“You do realize, in all likelihood, I’m going to have my medical license revoked right.”

“That just means you can’t practice medicine publicly.”

“Or privately.”

“On people perhaps.”

Again he raised an eyebrow at that. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“So am I to take that as a yes doctor?”

“It would be, except for-”

“We can easily take care of any legal matters that crop up, provided you accept our terms,” he cut him off again, “As well as delay the start of your employment to allow your partner, who will be covered by your insurance through us as well, time to recover enough to no longer require your attentions.”

He had to admit, this guy was good. He had all his bases covered, and knew exactly what to say to get him hooked. He knew he was out of a job because of this, and Breakdown having been on strike, and most likely not being able to work for the nest few months, they’d be desperate for money. Not to mention that he really, really would like not to go to jail.

Kaon was a big company, and if this guy could do all that he’d promised…

“It’s been a busy day for you doctor.”

Starscream’s voice broke into his thoughts more than the heel clicks of his boots against the flooring did. He came within arms’ length of the red head, and produced a business card for him.

“The offer won’t sit on the table forever mind you, but we can be reasonable enough to let you think it over once things have quieted down some. Don’t want you making important life changing decisions without thinking them over after all.”

He reached to take the card, but Starscream held it tightly long enough to add one last bit of advice,

“Remember doctor, you need to make sure you’re willing to be completely faithful.”

He let go of the card, and turned nice and sharply on his heel to exit the locker room; evenly spaced sets of click, click, click followed him out. 

Knockout let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, looking down to the printed name and number on the card’s face;

_Starscream  
Relations VP, Kaon Enterprises…_

****

The Tombs. The lockup before the real lock up in Trypticon. Oddly enough, it was quiet for that night. Then again, maybe all the smaller time crimes had gone unnoticed due to the larger man hunt that had been going on that had resulted in Arachnid’s and Flatline’s arrests. They were both locked up of course, but that was as familiar as they were with each other.

The smuggler was lying on the bench in her cell, her jacket folded up and propped under her head; she figured she might as well try to catch a few hours of sleep before processing. While the doctor was sitting as he rested in his.

A door clicked open at the end of the row of cells, but no one paid it any attention. A soft click, click, click sounded off the walls; it grew louder as it came closer though.

“Ah, Arachnid.”

Both the smuggler and the doctor looked up at the sound of the voice. From her side, she saw an albino-like man standing in front of her cell door, a very Cheshire-like smirk on his face as he looked her over. From his side, he saw the back of the same man, but unlike her, he had the advantage of recognizing the form.

“Starscream,” Flatline spoke as he rose and came to the door. “I was beginning to wonder when you would get here.”

“Yes, quite,” he brushed it off quickly, and returned his attention back to the woman as she sat up. “Arachnid, right?”

“Depends who’s looking,” she stretched, then leaned back crossing her legs, “And what you want.”

“It’s more like, what you want my dear. You were once employed at Kaon Enterprises were you not?”

“About a lifetime ago, why?”

“You’re up to what, over a dozen counts of smuggling, a handful accounts of attempted murder, at least two counts of murder-one a cop if I’m not mistaken. And now something as mundane as kidnapping. My, my, what a busy girl you are.”

“Is there a point to this, or do you just have a thing for strolling into jails to make small talk.”

“How would you like a get out of jail free card?”

She snorted. “Who would I have to blow or kill, or you know, both.”

“There’s no need for you to go black widow, I assure you.”

“Uhhu, still, what’s the catch.”

“No catch. Just think of it as a friendly gesture.”

“In my experience,” she stood now, walking up to the cell bars, leaning against them, “That usually means owing a debt, and I am not into owing Kaon anything.”

“I’m not here for Kaon Arachnid,” he smirked again, “I’m here for you.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Look, you’re cute and all, but you’re not my type and there are far easier ways to get a date.”

“Listen here,” he hissed sharply, then paused a beat to regain himself, “If you’re not interested, then by all means, feel free to sit in this cell and in Trypitcon after arraignment. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time there, that is until it’s your turn in the gas chamber, because as a cop killer, there is no way they won’t vilify you and seek the death penalty. I won’t force you to take my offer. I just thought you might prefer freedom to being caged like one of your animals. My mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

He turned on his heel to leave at that.

“Hold up.”

A sleazy smirk slid across his lips at that.

“You get me out, and I owe you one, that’s it?”

“Yes, that is it,” he turned back to face her again, “Oh, and of course you’ll have to stay within the city.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Basically this was exchanging a small cage for a choke collar. But whereas she didn’t have many ideas about breaking out of police custody, she could probably figure out how to escape the city under this guy’s nose, given enough time of course. He seemed like the weaselly type who tried to play for a big endgame, and if it had to do with Kaon, it was probably pretty big, and her card probably wouldn’t called in for a long time.

“I can deal with that.”

“Splendid.”

“So when do I get out of here?”

“Whenever you’d like to my dear.”

She tried pressing against the door and oddly enough it opened. She gave him a side ways look; he had actually had the magnetic locks turned off this entire time. She could’ve gotten out at any point in time; she didn’t have to agree to his terms. She had to admit, he had some skill there.

He could practically read her thoughts at that, and just answered them with a smirk, gesturing, “Shall we then?”

“Just let me get my coat,” she walked back to the bench to get it.

Flatline now tried to press against his cell door, but the bars didn’t budge. The other two started to walk back towards the door at the end of the hall, and a slight panic started to rise in him.

“Starscream, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh yes, sorry doctor,” he half turned back to look at him, “Your services are no longer required. Your position has been terminated within the company.”

“What? You can’t do that.”

“It’s already been done. You went against your contract by working for an unapproved third party. That’s immediate grounds for termination.”

“But I…I’ll talk then,” he threatened.

Again, he smirked. “And tell them what doctor.”

He was at a loss there. Starscream just turned away, smirk still in place.

“Enjoy the rest of your life doctor.”

And they were gone. The door at the end of the hall clicked shut, and the Tombs were once again silent.

*****

The first thing he noticed was that his arm itched. He wasn’t even fully awake yet, his memory hadn’t yet full kicked in, just a persistent itch. So without thinking he reached over to scratch it. That though caused a sharp pain to spread like wildfire across his chest. That woke him up, and earned a hiss from his lips.

Sound came back before sight did; he picked up on a slow methodical electronic ping, as well as the sound of soft breaths in succession. Feeling returned faster than sight as well; the itchiness was till there, as was the pain, though that part had numbed slightly, but there was also a light pressure against the hand that was attached to the itchy arm. He tried to push against the darkness, make his diminished vision, yes he remembered the fact he’d lost an eye now, work for him. 

Things were blurry at first, but whether that was from his diminished state, or the fact that fluorescent bulbs did that to speckled ceiling titles naturally, who knew. He tried to move his head over enough to look on his blindside, but again the pull of his muscles caused a fiery stab to travel down him. 

He hissed again, but this time his hiss seemed to have gotten a reaction. The breathing missed its mark, and the pressure on his hand lifted slightly.

“Break…down…?”

Any tension he had been holding, just flooded out of him there. “Hey doc…”

He started to try to move to see him, but there was a hand quick on his chest to hold him down, though not hard enough to cause any pain at least. A chair scraped backwards, and the full pressure was off of his hand; he could just imagine the red head sitting slumped over asleep holding his hand now that he knew it was him.

“Stay put, I’ll move.”

The hand on his chest moved away, but a moment later, there was Knockout on his good side. He looked horrible, disheveled, puffy eyes from a lack of sleep, hair limp and unattended, and he obviously had been sleeping in his clothes. But at that moment, he couldn’t have thought of a more beautiful sight.

He smiled slightly and tried to reach up to him, but again as he moved that arm a pain shot through him. The doctor caught the wince, and immediately placed his hands on either side of his love’s hand to ease it back down.

“I told you not to move.”

“What…happened?”

Knockout nervously bit his lip, a behavior he rarely saw from the confident doctor.

“Knockout.”

He rubbed the tanned hand in his grasp, looking down to it; he may have been used to giving this sort of speech, but it was different when it was personal. “You had major surgery done…major life saving surgery.”

He blinked for a moment, taking that in. “My eye?”

The red head shook his head. “Your heart.”

That would explain the pain in his chest he guessed.

“How long have I been out?”

“You’ve been in the hospital for over 18 hours. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

He sighed, closing his eye. He was engulfed in darkness, but he could still feel his love’s touch. He gingerly closed his fingers around his, holding him close the only way he could right now. A soft choking sound made him break from the darkness and he looked again to the red head.

“Hey…”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, taking his top hand away from his, and wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry Breakdown.”

“For what?”

Knockout just shook his head, unable to put to words what he really wanted to express. All of the days spent worrying about him, the fear of loosing him, the fact that he just threw his whole career away to save him, that there was this new opportunity, that he felt like he’d failed him, that he couldn’t imagine going on without him…

“Hey, doc.”

The voice and the light squeeze to his hand brought him out of himself and he looked to him.

“I love you.”

He started to tear again, but despite that, he smiled a little. The red head leaned over the silver haired man, and very carefully rested a soft kiss to his temple, keeping his fingers interlocked with his.

“I love you too. And I promise, we’re going to get through this.”


End file.
